by P. F. Ford
"That's odd," he said. "She's still got the shop labels attached to her underwear."
He indicated a label hanging from the bra strap.
"Who keeps the labels on their underwear?" asked Norman.
"Someone who's just bought it and is trying it on for size?" suggested Slater.
"But she would know her own size before she went shopping," argued Norman. "And if she was in doubt, wouldn't she try the bra on in the shop?"
"Suppose they were a gift?" suggested Slater. "Maybe someone gave them to her and guessed her size."
"It's an expensive gift," said Murphy. "A matching set in real silk, according to this label."
"So, she likes nice underwear," said Norman. "There's no law against it."
"It could be significant though," said Slater. "No-one has mentioned a boyfriend so far, and Woody doesn't sound like the sort of guy to buy something like this."
"Maybe he was trying to win her back," said Norman.
Murphy and his assistant got back to work, and it was soon time for the part of the process Norman loathed. He managed to find something interesting on his phone which seemed to distract him for the next hour until eventually Murphy was finished.
"Tea, gentlemen?" he suggested. "We might even have some biscuits if you're really lucky."
"I'll do a full report for you obviously," he told them a few minutes later. "But the gist is she was stabbed, in the back, by a flat bladed knife, possibly the carving knife from the set in the kitchen. I would suggest the killer was probably, but not necessarily, shorter than the victim. The angle of entry would suggest the knife was pointing upwards as it entered the body, passed through the ribs and plunged into the heart. Death would have been more or less instantaneous."
"What about time of death?" asked Slater. "Is it still the same?"
"I would narrow it down to between five and six pm," said Murphy, before continuing with his brief narrative.
"The victim had recently had sex, but a condom was used so there were no samples to collect."
"Definitely not rape?" asked Norman.
"There's nothing to suggest it wasn't consensual," said Murphy.
"Are the two events related?" asked Slater.
"I can't say for sure at this stage," said Murphy. "But I think it's probable she had sex a few hours before she was killed, so it's unlikely they are related."
"Would it have been the night before?" asked Slater.
"Not that long before," said Murphy. "I would guess not more than four to six hours before she was killed."
"Maybe it was someone at work," said Norman. "In the broom cupboard, perhaps."
Murphy and Slater both looked at Norman.
"What?" he asked defensively. "Workplace affairs aren't that unusual."
"Yeah, but in a broom cupboard?" asked Slater.
"Okay, so it was bad taste," admitted Norman. "But even so, we can't ignore the possibility of a workplace affair that might have gone wrong."
"We can't afford to rule anything out," conceded Slater. "And we do need to check out her workplace."
"Obviously blood and toxicology will take a few days," finished Murphy. "I'll let you know as soon as I know."
He looked at Slater and Norman in turn.
"Well," he said. "How did I do?"
"It worked just fine for me," said Norman.
"We already knew you could do the job, Eamon," said Slater. "You don't have anything to prove to us."
Murphy tilted his head in acknowledgement of the compliment.
"That's good to know," he said. "Thank you."
"Anyway, we need to get on," said Slater. "Thanks Eamon. We'll speak soon."
"Yeah, it's been a blast, Eamon," said Norman. "It’s a really great way to start my day. I'm really sorry I can't stay for the encore."
"I hope you don't mind," said Jolly, when they got back from the PM. "But I've taken it upon myself to have someone call on Mr Woods."
"But we need to interview him," began Norman.
"Yes," she said. "I know that, but he lives in Wales. It would take you the best part of four hours to get there. You'd be tied up for a whole day, and we don't even know if he's going to be there. Can we afford to lose two thirds of our team for a day?"
"Ah, right," said Norman. "When you put it like that, it's probably not the best use of our time."
"I've contacted the station nearest where he lives. They're going to send someone round to tell him his wife has died, and to tell him we need to speak to him. I've also asked them to report back on his reaction to the news, and to let us know what he's going to do next."
"Sometimes I think you should be in charge here, Jane," said Slater. "We'd probably be a whole lot more organised."
"Flattery is good," she smiled. "But you can still go and get your own coffee and cakes."
"Am I that obvious?" asked Slater.
"Patently," laughed Jolly.
She shuffled through her notes.
"Diana Woods' parents are coming in later," she said. "They're going to formally identify the body. And, don't forget you still need to speak to all the residents of Bishops Common about the murder."
"We're going back to speak to them this morning," said Slater. "And we ought to get a statement from Diana's parents."
"I can deal with them if you're not back," suggested Jolly. "If it helps."
"If you're sure," said Norman. "It would certainly help if we didn't have to keep rushing backwards and forwards."
They had started from the main road, and called at every house along the lane leading to Bishops Common, working towards Diana Woods' house. Almost everyone had been at home, but so far it had been a fruitless journey. No-one had seen or heard anything. There was even one homeowner who hadn't even realised there had been a major incident further down their lane yesterday.
"How could you possibly miss all those sirens and blue lights?" Norman asked Slater, as they walked away from the house. "And all those vehicles?"
"It's a sign of the times," said Slater. "You've said as much yourself before now. People keep themselves to themselves and only look out for themselves."
"Yeah, I guess that's so," sighed Norman. "I suppose they were glued to their TV set or something important like that."
The next house they came to was that of Amanda Hollis. She had been the last person they spoke to last night.
"I suppose we'd better call in again," suggested Slater. "She might have thought of something new."
But, in fact, all Amanda Hollis wanted to do was reinforce what she had told them the previous night. As far as she was concerned they need look no further than Diana's husband Ian Woods. She had been over to see Laura Pettit just this morning, and they were quite convinced he was the only person in the whole world who could possibly have wanted Diana dead.
"You don't need to look any further," she assured them. "And I'll be happy to stand up in the witness box and say whatever you need me to say to convict him."
Norman and Slater exchanged a look.
"Hearsay isn't proof of a crime, Mrs Hollis," said Slater, more patiently than he felt. "Perhaps you didn't realise but we actually prefer to use facts as evidence. That way we know we're convicting the right person."
"Well, I can assure you you will find we're right," she said, adamantly.
"Have you ever done jury service, Mrs Hollis?" asked Norman.
"That's a strange question," she said. "No, I haven't. Why do you ask?"
"I just wondered," said Norman innocently. "I was just thinking of all the time and money we could save if everyone adopted your approach to justice."
"I'm sorry, I don't follow you," she said.
"You don't?" said Norman. "Well, if I had all day free and nothing better to do, maybe I'd try and explain it to you, but we're actually trying to solve a murder here so I'm afraid I don't have the time right now."
"Thank you for your time, Mrs Hollis," said Slater, stepping in front of Norman. "But we really must get on n
ow."
"But what does he mean?" she asked. "Is he trying to imply something?"
"Good heavens, no," replied Slater. "He has a thing about the justice system and how it could be improved. Your trial by rumour suggestion would certainly speed things up. We could do away with the whole Criminal Justice system at a stroke. Anyway, we must go."
He turned and ushered Norman from the premises before he really lost it with this stupid woman. Meanwhile Amanda Hollis was trying to work out what Slater had just said. She was sure she hadn't made any suggestions about the justice system, had she?
"Jeez," said Norman, when they were out of earshot. "Listening to that woman slagging off Ian Woods brings a whole new meaning to the expression 'witch hunt'. Is she for real?"
"She doesn't exactly offer an impartial opinion, does she?" smiled Slater.
"That can't possibly be her car in the drive," observed Norman. "Surely she must be a broomstick user."
He looked at the next house along the lane. It was that of Diana's next door neighbour Laura Pettit who'd had the misfortune to discover the body yesterday.
"Oh great," he said. "If those two were sharing the same cauldron this morning I suppose we're going to get a load more of that 'it must be Woody' shit here."
"You're probably right," agreed Slater. "But there's only one way to find out."
Half an hour later they were walking from Laura Pettit's house.
"What did I tell you?" asked Norman. "They're almost word perfect too, as if it's all rehearsed. You have to wonder what's going on here. I'm almost beginning to feel sorry for this Woody guy."
"They've obviously put their heads together and agreed what they're going to say," admitted Slater. "But even so, we can't discount it. If what they're saying about him is even half right then he's got to be in the frame."
"The only good thing to come out of this was getting Diana's mobile number," said Norman. "That was good thinking on your part."
"I figured her friend had to have it," said Slater. "It was just a question of waiting for her to stop talking long enough for me to ask the question."
They walked on past the scene of the crime and stopped at the one remaining house in the lane. There had been no-one home the previous night when they had called, and there was no-one in this morning.
"Maybe they're away," suggested Norman as they headed back down the lane towards their car.
As they walked, another car came around the bend in the lane heading towards them. The car slowed down and pulled up alongside them, it's driver's window slid smoothly down and a man's face appeared.
"Are you the police?" he asked.
"DS Slater and DS Norman," said Slater, flashing his warrant card. "Can we help you?"
"I might be able to help you," said the man.
He stepped from his car, closed the door, and then leaned back against it.
"My name's John Hollis."
"Amanda's husband?" asked Norman.
"That's right," he said. "I'm on late shift this week so I wasn't here last night, but I believe you spoke to my wife, didn't you?"
"That's right, we did," agreed Slater.
"So you know Woody did it," said John Hollis with a rueful grin. "I'm sorry about that. I had it drummed into me all night long, if it's any consolation. I'm afraid my wife and Laura Pettit seem to have got it in for poor old Woody."
"Why?" asked Norman. "What's he ever done to them?"
"I think it's more a case of what he didn't do," said Hollis. "Woody's quiet and he's shy, and he'd rather stand in the corner than be the centre of attention. That can make him hard to get to know, but when you do get to know him he's a good guy, and he's the sort who would do almost anything to help a friend. The problem is Laura wanted him to help her out in ways that he wasn't prepared to, if you see what I mean."
"And you know this how?" asked Slater.
"I know this because he told me," replied Hollis.
"If he's so quiet and shy, why would he tell you about something like that?" asked Norman.
"I'm probably one of the best friends he's got," said Hollis. "He was actually quite upset about the whole incident, and he wanted to tell someone about it, so he told me over a few beers one night. He didn't want to tell his wife, so who else was he going to tell?
"The thing is he only ever had eyes for Diana. There was no way he was interested in any other woman, so Laura got the cold shoulder. Ever since she's been waging this campaign to convince everyone Woody's some sort of shit and the world's worst husband. If he was an astronaut, up there in space, orbiting the moon now, she would still tell you he had done it."
"So why would your wife have it in for him?" asked Slater.
"If you mean did she try it on with Woody, too," said Hollis. "The answer's no. She became an anti Woody campaigner when he left Diana, and Diana started spreading all sorts of crap about what sort of husband he had been."
"Are you saying Laura Pettit and your wife are lying about Mr Woods?" asked Norman.
"I'm saying I think you're being subjected to a considerable degree of exaggeration," said Hollis. "I'm sure Woody's no saint. But then, let's face it, none of us are. And, as they say, who really knows what goes on behind closed doors? But he was married to Diana for twenty years, and I know she wasn't the sort of woman to put up with the abuse he was supposed to have been dishing out. There was never so much as a hint about it during all the time I've known them, and even my wife will concede that much, and yet, the moment he left her, she started telling people what a bastard he was. Personally I think its all bollocks."
"But why do you think she would do that?" asked Slater.
"To divert attention away from her own behaviour and make herself out to be the squeaky clean victim in their failed marriage, that's why," said Hollis.
"What do you mean, 'divert attention away from her own behaviour'?" asked Norman.
"Have you spoken to Woody yet?" asked Hollis.
"No," said Slater. "We're hoping to speak to him later today."
"Well, it's not my place to speak ill of the dead," said Hollis. "But when you speak to him, ask him why he left his supposedly perfect wife."
He checked his watch.
"Sorry," he said, as he opened his car door and climbed back inside. "But I've got to go. Work calls and I need to get changed before I go."
"We may need to speak to you again," said Slater.
"Anytime I'm not late for work," smiled Hollis, through the open window, as he pulled away. "Just let me know."
"So what do we think so far?" asked Norman as they continued walking back to their car.
"I think we need to speak to Ian Woods, is what I think," said Slater.
"Yeah," agreed Norman. "It looks like one of those marriage break-ups where the friends have taken sides, so there's not much chance of learning anything we can rely on."
"It's amazing so many people could be at home and yet no-one saw anything," said Slater.
"But this is a rural area, right?" said Norman. "It's not like a busy street where someone might be sitting staring out of the window watching all the people go by. I mean, that would be a seriously boring pastime out here, wouldn't it?"
"I know you're right," agreed Slater. "But it would make our job so much easier if someone had seen something!"
"No doubt about that," conceded Norman. "But that would be too easy, wouldn't it? Next thing we know you'll be expecting me to buy lunch."
They had reached their car now, and Slater plipped the locks and they climbed in. He put the key in the ignition and was just about to start the car when he realised what Norman had just said.
"It can't possibly be my turn again," he said, turning to look at Norman in dismay.
"I left my wallet at home," explained Norman, with a sheepish grin. "What can I say? I'm sorry, alright?"
"That's every day for over a week," said an exasperated Slater, as he started the car. "Next time we have a night out, I'm going to leave my wallet at home and y
ou're going to have to buy me the most expensive meal I can find. And I'll be drinking champagne."
As Slater put the car in gear and started to drive, Norman's phone began to ring. It was standard procedure for Slater to point out how bad Norman's ring tone was, but as he glanced in his direction he could see this might not be the right time to do so. Norman was looking at his new phone, shock and dismay all over his face.
"You okay, Norm?" he asked.
Norman dismissed the call and put the phone back in his jacket pocket. He gazed distractedly out of the window.
"Norm," insisted Slater. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I'm fine," replied Norman, unconvincingly.
Chapter Three
“Any luck?" asked Jolly, when they eventually got back.
"Nothing we didn't already know," said Norman. "What's been going on here?"
"Diana Woods' parents have identified the body," she said.
"Did they have anything to say?" asked Slater.
"They're waiting to talk to you," she replied, unhappily. "I'm sorry. I did try, but they didn't seem to think they should be wasting their breath on a lowly PC. They insist on talking to 'the person in charge'."
"That'll be him, then," said Slater and Norman in unison, each pointing at the other.
"I told them it would be both of you," Jolly smiled sweetly.
"Where are they?" asked Slater.
"I wasn't sure how long you were going to be," said Jolly. "And this isn't exactly The Ritz, so I suggested they go and wait at their hotel."
"That's okay," said Norman. "We can go and talk to them there. Any news on the husband?"
"Yes. They found him at home this morning and told him. Apparently he's on his way here now," said Jolly.
"He's not on the run, then," observed Slater.
"According to our colleagues in Wales, he appeared to be shocked by the news," said Jolly, reading from her notes. "That was at just after ten this morning. He was going to pack a bag and make his way here almost straight away. It's just after two now, so I guess he could be here by three."
